Charlie Shanks and the Ginger Cat
by bleigh
Summary: A missing piece of history; the real story of Hermione's ginger cat.


disclaimer - I do not own this character nor do I own any of the characters associate with JK Rowling. I am only creating my own story from the midst of the Potterverse.

This is a piece I did for my the Harry Potter class I am taking in college. I wanted to see what all y'all thought about it. Just a note that it is purely fiction and I am writing it to fulfill a prediction I once had about Crookshanks the cat. Mostly this would never have happened in HP but I thought that maybe just maybe it could be a little lost piece of History...

**Charlie Shanks and the Ginger Cat**

**By: bleigh  
**

Seventh year at Hogwarts is supposed to be the toughest year. With each class geared towards each student's field of choice and a test to decide whether or not the students are ready for the real Wizarding world. Charlie Shanks was one of these seventh year students. Unfortunately he still had no clue what he was going to do with his life. He had no particular skills that really stood out to him or anyone else for that matter. Charlie was an all around average kid. On any particular day he could be found sitting with his friends in the library, working out a paper for Potions class. On this particular afternoon he was doing just that. Their professor had given them a most difficult subject; Veritaserum. Not only was it impossible to make, it took ages to mature. Charlie had just written;

'Veritaserum takes a full moon cycle to mature to its fullest potential. Without this time it is detectable by smell and turns whatever it is mixed with a vile orange color. This color is vaguely similar to vomit.'

A loud crash from across the room caused him to start and his quill to make a sound equal to that of a newly repotted Mandrake across his parchment. It also created a giant ink blob that immediately began to seep through the parchment and bleed across the page erasing most of his last paragraph. With a look of annoyance the girl sitting opposite him tapped his parchment and the blob disappeared. Unfortunately so did all of his work.

"Thank you ever so much Pertwina." He said sarcastically; glaring at her.

"Oh dear. Well I am sorry Charlie. That always used to work for me. I must have said something wrong." Pertwina gave him a sheepish grin and went back to her parchment. She had almost completed the required roll of parchment for the class.

Charlie decided that it would be best to head back to his dormitory. He packed his things, checked out a book on truth serums and made his way to the Hufflepuff dorms. He was lost in his own little world; thinking of ways to get Pertwina back (none of them would ever be executed; he only liked to think about it). Just as he was thinking of a particularly nasty spell that involved slugs he felt a strange twinge run up his spine. Stopping in his tracks he looked around him. He must have made a wrong turn at some point because he was not on the right track to the Hufflepuff dorms.

Though where he was did look rather familiar. Another twinge of tingles danced up his spine and he twitched. And then it hit him; the dungeons. For some reason his treacherous feet had brought him within feet of the Slytherin dorms. All it took was a second for him to turn in the opposite direction and book it out of there. It was not long before he could see the light of the main halls ahead. Just as he was about to step into safety he heard a mocking voice behind him say "Ickle Hufflypuffly get lost?"

Charlie turned his head around in all directions trying to see where the voice was coming from. He would know that voice anywhere. Drimul Reapor was the meanest Slytherin student. And he seemed to have an affinity for Charlie. Not only did he always seem to find Charlie at the worst of moments he was the only kid in school that could scare Charlie into fits. He would have nightmares for weeks after an encounter with Drimul. The twinge in his spine was going crazy at the thought of their last meeting. Drimul had given Charlie the worst wedgie of his life. Afterwards he could not sit for days. His bum ached even thinking about it.

"Crooked Shanks; what brings you to my neck of the Castle, eh?" Drimul's thick Germanic accent taunted him from somewhere deep in the dungeon.

Dimul had been calling Charlie Crooked Shanks since their very first year here. He called him that because Charlie's nose had not grown on quite right. In fact his whole face seemed to be pushed in a few centimeters too many; as if he had been bashed right into a wall upon birth. Not to give anyone the wrong impression. Charlie had had a wonderful childhood.

"Hullo Dimul. It seems I've turned down the wrong corridor haven't I." Charlie's breath started coming out in wheezes. What could Dimul possible do this time?

"Oh yes. You are definitely in the wrong corridor at the wrong time." Dimul's voice echoed around him and he laughed a loud menacing laugh.

Silence followed. Neither boy said a word only Charlie's wheezing could be heard echoing around him. Boldly Charlie began to walk towards the opening into the main halls again. He knew that whatever was waiting in store for him could not possibly be good; and he was not waiting around to find out what it would be.

Just when he thought he was home free, his foot touching the brighter marble of the main halls, he heard a huge bang as something huge and dark began to plummet from the vaulted ceilings towards his head. Before he could even think he bounded out of the way dropping his parchments, quills, books and anything else he had been carrying onto the floor. Running around the corner he dove for the first hiding spot he could see. Starting out of the hole he had dove into he saw Dimul and his friends coming out of the dungeons laughing and holding his parchment and quills. This would be the second time he would have to buy new ones from Flourish and Blotts; just his luck.

After the boys were out of sight Charlie stuck his head out of the hole. Across the corridor the big painting of a dog started barking furiously. He meant to shush it but what came out of his mouth was not what he expected. He hissed. Glancing down at himself he gave a start and nearly jumped out of his skin. He was covered in fur. And where his shoes and feet used to be were big, mangy, bandy legs and paws. He had been turned into a cat. How in Helga Hufflepuff's name had dim Dimul and his idiot friends achieved such a task? Even transfiguration for the seventh years had not advanced to changing humans; nor would they ever, since such a thing was forbidden.

"Meow" Charlie said. What he really meant to say was bloody hell; but now it seemed all he could say was 'hiss' and 'meow'; although he seemed to be able to do both these in different tones and intensities. Charlie was beginning to get over the initial shock of being a cat. He sat down on his haunches and proceeded to lick his left paw thoughtfully. Thinking back upon his Dark Arts classes he seemed to remember a bit about Animagi. If he remembered correctly; if a person was transformed into an animal form they would be unable to retain their human abilities to think. But if a human was an Animagus they would be able to retain their human thoughts and emotions while in animal form. He could not believe it. After all these years trying to transfigure himself he had finally accomplished the task purely upon accident. Charlie purred ecstatically and rubbed himself against the wall next to him.

After some time he willed himself into a standing position. Looking down at himself he saw that he was back into his human form; clothes and all. Now the hard part would be transforming back into a cat. He ran his hand through his thick mangy red hair and gathered his courage. With every effort he could muster, his nose scrunched up in concentration, he leaped forward and landed on all fours on the floor. His paws hit safely and he pranced up and down the corridors with a smug look on his face. He could not wait to tell his friends.

He was just about to transform back into a human again when someone rounded the corner and stood in front of the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon. Charlie felt his tail twitch slightly just like his spine had in real life. It was the head boy, Tom Riddle. He opened his mouth to say hello, but all that escaped was a simple "Meow." Tom turned on a heel and glowered down at him.

"What is this? Someone's cat has escaped from the dorms. But no, there is no ginger cat registered. You must be a stray." Tom picked him up by the scruff of his neck and looked into his face. Charlie was completely befuddled as to what he should do next.

"You are an ugly thing aren't you" said Tom.

Should he try and transform now? Or should he claw and bite? Just as he was deciding on the latter of the two Tom pointed his wand at Charlie and muttered something under his breath. Darkness immediately covered him like a big soft down blanket.

By the time he had woken up he felt as if he had slept for ages. He could not move. Something was holding Charlie's to the ground, each one of his paws was completely immobile. He tried to scratch and hiss, but nothing seemed to work. He was completely secured to the table. Above him was a light and around him nothing but the dank dark. He must be in the dungeons somewhere but where he could not fathom where that could be. The door on the far wall creaked and opened slightly admitting the pale frame of the head boy Tom.

Charlie hissed and meowed as ferociously as he possibly could. All Tom did was laugh menacingly.

"Impedimenta" Tom shouted pointing his wand at Charlie's fur covered cat self.

Charlie could no longer move or hiss for that matter. Tom rose above him his wand poised at the ready. It was not until it was too late that he realized what Tom was going to do. Tom was not the nice young head boy everyone thought he was: Strong, smart, and kind. What he would do to poor Charlie over the next few weeks was pure torture. It has been omitted from the records completely and the only one who knows now is Voldemort himself. Even poor Charlie has no memory of the time he spent as Tom Riddle's captive.

Only some days later they pronounced seventh year Charlie Shanks as dead and held a beautiful funeral service at the school. Pertwina Kurtvina cried the hardest, and even Dimul Reapor felt as if he was losing something.

Only a few weeks later on the steps of the Magical Menagerie there could be seen a skinny, underfed, ginger cat. His poor bandy legs could barely carry him to the door; where he immediately collapsed and began wheezing uncontrollably. Rain was pouring down and the cat was soaked through. The door opened and a rather rotund black witch with giant black spectacles gasped and gathered the cat into her arms. She rushed him inside and laid him on the counter. Petting his head gingerly she crooned.

"Oh you poor, poor thing; whatever has happened to you?" She took a small brush from under the counter and slowly brushed out his mangy locks. "If I knew who'd done this to you I would turn them into a newt."

She quickly ran around the counter and grabbed a bowl and filled it with milk from the ice box. "There you go darling. Drink that. It will help immensely I'm sure." She pet his head as he drank slowly taking sips until the cat finally stood and took big gulps of it nearly choking once.

"There now, isn't that better? What shall I call you? You have such beautiful hair. I could call you Orangy?" she said looking down at him hopefully.

The cat looked at her disdainfully and twitched his tail. It was obvious that he did not like that idea one bit. "Well fine then. Let's have a look at you. You have such crooked little legs. And your face is, for lack of a better word, squashed. Well, that is just perfect I think. Crookedshanks! Or better yet! Crookshanks?" she said it tentatively looking at the ginger cat for approval.

The cat simply looked up at her and meowed once and proceeded to sit in the middle of the counter cleaning one giant paw while lazily watching the rain pounding on the windows outside.


End file.
